


A Sack of Cats

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Series: OTP: You're the boss [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cats, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-10 15:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Grace asks the hard questions: were there any cats in Serehron? Bull makes up an answer.Haven setting, pre-relationship.





	A Sack of Cats

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr way back when. Adding here so it is part of Grace's canon of fics.
> 
> Set within the timeline of Far Away, So Close but written way before FASC had been started.

“I know you meant that Seheron was a crazy place when you said it was a sack of cats. But… were there any cats?” Grace’s eyes were wide, a hint of expectation in the way she asked the question.

Bull smiled. “Yeah, sure! Loads of cats. Couldn’t walk down the street without kicking one. Had them falling out the trees, too.”

“Really!” she squealed.

Bull gave a solemn nod. So solemn that he thought it would be obvious he was joking. Instead of a frown and an accusation of fibbing, Grace leant forward.

“Were they big cats like you get in the mountains? Or small cats like mine?”

Ah shit. Well he was in too deep to pull out now. Might as well roll with it. “Small. Like your ones. Good infiltrators. I recruited a band of them. Heh. Guess they were my first mercs.” He laughed into his ale, allowed himself a chance to think ahead. “I torched this one house–after I’d killed the occupants. I’m not cruel. Only I heard all this meowing as the walls went up and I thought, ‘crap, gotta go rescue them’. So I did. Ran back into that burning building, bundled them into a sack and got the fuck out.”

“You saved them!” Grace’s smile spread wide. All she needed to add was ‘my hero’ in a soft sigh but Bull knew she didn’t need to say it. He was already a hero in her eyes. And heart. Now, if she wasn’t the Herald of Andraste or whatever, Bull might’ve just capitalised on his hero status.

“I trained them too. Before long, I was using them to send messages across crowded markets to warn my guys where the enemy was, shit like that.”

Grace frowned. “How did you train the cats? I tried to train mine back in Ostwick to shake paws but all I got was a scratched up hand.”

Uh oh. Better make something up quick. “Got them young enough, see. You can train any animal if you get to them young.”

“Oh.” Grace looked away, thinking this over. She seemed to accept the explanation well enough and encouraged Bull to continue.

He made shit up as he went along. Truth was, Seheron had no cats. Not even Par Vollen had cats. Bull hadn’t met any cats until he’d come south to Orlais. Even then he hadn’t thought much about them. Just another pet really. But Bull was Ben-Hassrath. Observation was his game and he picked up enough about pet-customs to make his band of kitty soldiers sound plausible enough.

By the end of his story Grace had her chin in her hands, face all soft as she hung on every word. If there wasn’t a sticky tavern bench between them, he’d swear she’d’ve ended up on his lap.

“Is all that really true?” she asked.

Crap. He couldn’t go and say no now, could he? He’d dug a hole and spun a story so convincing that even Haven’s resident cat whisperer had been fooled. But before he was the Iron Bull, he was Hissrad. He knew what he was doing.

“Yeah! I mean, mostly.” Who was going to prove him wrong? None of his Chargers had been to Seheron. No one in their right mind would go there.

“I’m glad you’re here, Bull.”

There was that lusty stare. Bull knew that look all too well but he wasn’t going to bed her. No. He gulped down the rest of his ale, feeling bad for stringing her along. She was an all right girl. Young and naive. In the wrong place at the wrong time, so he understood. Still. If stories about cats helped her forget her worries, Bull would supply them.

“Do you have any more stories? Not about cats. They don’t have to be about cats, anyway,” she asked.

“Sure. I got lots of stories. Another night though. Time I hit the hay. You too.”

Bull escorted Grace through Haven, getting her safely to her cabin. A cat rubbed against his leg as she rubbed her hands and looked up at Bull. Oh. She wanted a kiss. Maybe he could give her the next best thing. He bent down, moving fast enough to keep her from sticking her lips to him and picked up the cat.

“Here you go. Company for a cold night.” He passed the cat over.

Grace frowned only for a second before nuzzling her face into the cat’s belly. She thanked Bull and headed inside.

When the door closed, Bull blew out a long breath and muttered to himself all the way back to his camp. Damn Herald and her damn cats. Still, he hadn’t had such a fun night in a long time.


End file.
